


Shadows of Our Dreams

by KUG



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: A lot of pain, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Honestly it's so fluffy, I'm adding some tags for ch 2, Past Torture, Platonic Cuddling, Sleepy Cuddles, They need a snuggle pile, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, and crying, and even more snuggling for Shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 07:14:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7499001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KUG/pseuds/KUG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>-There comes a time and place where you don’t stand so tall-</p><p>The Paladins of Voltron have been reunited and are now resting and trying to heal, but nightmares tend to stick around longer than physical injuries. Time for a good ol' fashioned sleepover with the team.<br/>(Post-episode 11)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Give it all Another Day

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this for at least three weeks off and on. I'm really bad at timeliness. I hope all you lovely readers enjoy it!  
> Also, there literally cannot be enough snuggle fics or sleepover fics for this fandom. These poor children need it so bad.  
> (Female pronouns for Pidge because that's what I'm most comfortable with.)

The worst thing about being separated from the rest of the team had been not knowing if they were okay. Pidge already suspected that Shiro was hurt somehow, and additionally was concerned about Allura’s state, seeing as she’d been a captive of the Galra. After three days, during which Pidge flew through endless, empty space and brooded over the fates of her teammates, the Altean castle-ship emerged from a wormhole above the Green lion. Pidge had never, never been so glad to see it. A quick burst of chatter over the coms revealed that Lance had just been found prior to the green paladin, and the second Pidge emerged from her lion into the hangar she’d been almost knocked over by his desperate embrace.

She hadn’t ever though to see Lance so emotionally bare, as he muttered in unintelligible, but relieved-sounding Spanish while squeezing her tightly. A few seconds later he stepped back, coughing in embarrassment, but Pidge just hugged him again. They held on to each other for a solid minute or two, just glad to be back…home. Because the ship was home now.

They found Hunk next, a week later. He’d actually been spat from the wormhole very close to a habitable planet and had been living with a fairly backwater alien civilization for a several days. He’d obviously enjoyed getting to know them and their culture, but when he dashed out of the mouth of the yellow lion and tackled Pidge and Lance, who were waiting for him, he was crying in relief. Patting them gently down, Hunk demanded to know if they were hurt, and Lance teasingly informed him that if they were it would have already been fixed by the cryo pods. Hunk sniffled the entire evening, and at bedtime Pidge and Lance started a sleepover in the lounge and Hunk dragged them to the kitchen to whip up some comfort food.

It was another four days before they found Keith and Shiro.

Like Lance and Pidge, they’d been flung to the middle of nowhere in space, but Keith had found Shiro through sheer luck as the black paladin was making his way to an uninhabited moon in a nearby system. When the castle-ship hailed them, Keith practically screamed in relief. Shiro was hurt. He was unconscious and wouldn’t wake up.

They landed on the moon’s surface and the red lion shot into its hangar, followed by the empty black lion, flying in of its own accord. Unlike Hunk and Pidge’s returns, there was no frantic, immediate hugging, because Keith was streaking from the hangar towards the infirmary, struggling to carry Shiro’s unconscious body. When he stumbled and nearly fell, exhausted, Hunk plucked the black paladin from him and ran the rest of the way to the cryo pods. Shiro was in for three days, earth time.

None of the paladins slept in their own rooms for those nights.

After they’d got Shiro in the pod, Pidge jumped on Keith, crushing him into a hug. After a moment, he wearily returned the gesture, slumping to rest his head on her shoulder. Then Hunk and Lance joined in and they all sat down on the steps in a hug pile until Keith got uncomfortable and extricated himself. But he wasn’t reluctant to participate in their huddles in the nights while they waited for Shiro to heal, and joined them under the mountains of blankets they accumulated.

Keith told everyone that Shiro had tried to play off his injuries as unimportant and doing just fine, but they’d landed on the moon and Shiro passed out. Keith had found him still strapped into his chair, bleeding slowly but steadily from his wounded side. The red paladin had spent the weeks until they were found fighting infection away from Shiro’s injuries and struggling to keep the two of them alive with just the survival gear packed on each of the lions. Two days before they were rescued Shiro had slipped into a coma. Keith almost—almost—cried because he was so relieved that Shiro would be okay now; he’d known the older man for years and admired him immensely.

But Shiro when emerged from the pod and they discovered that his druid-inflicted wound still hadn’t healed completely. After examining it, Allura and Coran shook their heads and said that for whatever reason it hadn’t responded well to the pod, but it could heal on its own in time. This meant the old-fashioned way. So Shiro was confined to his bed for a day; it was supposed to be longer but he escaped his room and they found him in the central control room, already scanning records of Altean dealings with the Galra, trying to be useful. After a few attempts to get him to stay in bed, they all realized that it was a totally fruitless effort, and they gave up.

Realizing that it would take everyone a little while to recuperate, Allura and Coran took the castle to an isolated part of deep space to recover and repair. During the “daylight” hours, everyone pitched in in repairing the castle and the lions, minus Shiro, who everyone forced to sit out anything strenuous. And when “night” came, they all retreated to bed without any of their old shenanigans. Even Pidge, who usually pulled late nights and all-nighters on a very regular basis, had been going to her bunk and sleeping for a solid eight to ten hours every night; she had barely gotten an average of two or three hours of sleep a night during the nerve-wracking eleven days it took to regroup the whole team and it was taking a toll on her.

Unfortunately, however, nightmares don’t have any sympathy, so Pidge would wake up in the middle of the night, afraid and not really wanting to go back to sleep. Not only were there her own fears to surface while she slept, but the recent tangling with the Galra then getting flung, alone, into deep space had added some extra material to the nightly parade of bad dreams. Sometimes she grabbed a blanket and went to Hunk’s room after a particularly bad one. He was always very willing to share his bunk, and he usually even stopped snoring. Pidge liked feeling another presence in the room with her, and she didn’t even mind when Hunk sometimes draped an arm over her shoulder.

But tonight Pidge wasn’t woken by her own nightmares, which was rather surprising and very unusual for her. As she bolted awake, she realized that something else had woken her. Sitting upright in bed, Pidge was poised, only half-awake but wide-eyed. She wasn’t entirely sure what had woken her, but she knew that for once it wasn’t her nightmares. In fact, she had been dreaming of something happy and was inclined to be a little irritable at whatever had disturbed her. She tilted her head, listening. There was a moan from the other cabin, Shiro’s, and Pidge frowned. Her sleep-fogged brain registered that something was wrong.

She knew that Shiro’s wound still hurt, but she could tell that the sound he had just made was still sleep-clogged, even though the wall between their rooms muffled the noise. Was it just hurting him in his sleep? Then there was another moan, followed by a soft but still audible whimper. The sound was familiar.

Fear.

Pidge shivered and threw the blankets off her legs. She had to go and wake him up or something; she couldn’t just leave him to his nightmares like that. But when she put her feet on the floor she immediately tripped over her laptop. Pidge grunted but made no other noise besides a loud clatter as the rest of the tech on the floor was either scattered or squashed by her fall.

Groaning, she untangled her foot from a few wires and felt about in the dimness of the room to make sure none of the equipment was broken. Finding that nothing was hurt—besides a little ache in her ribs and shin—Pidge jumped back up and hurried out into the hallway, the door sliding open automatically with a soft hiss. She darted a glance to the left and spotted a figure moving in the gloom of the sparsely lit hall. Even wrapped in a thick blanket, his shape and recently acquired limp was a telltale.

“Shiro?” she called softly, barely above a whisper. “Are you okay?”

He turned around and looked at her, but all she could see of his face was a faint gleam reflecting from his eyes. “I-I’m fine. Just going to the bathroom. Go back to bed, Pidge.” His voice gave him away: it was tired and still full of fear.

“That’s a bunch of quiznak,” she replied, pattering down the hallway to stand in front of him. She could see his face better up close. “I heard you.”

“I don’t think you used that word right,” he murmured, forcing a quiet chuckle.

“You were having a nightmare.” Pidge wasn’t budging and wasn’t going to be distracted.

Shiro’s shoulders slumped a little as he admitted, “Yeah. But it’s fine.”

“No it’s not. And you’re not really going to the bathroom are you?”

He shifted his eyes to the floor for a brief second.

“Are you going to Hunk’s room?”

Shiro still didn’t say anything, probably too embarrassed to admit to it.

Pidge smiled a little and found his hand under the blanket. “Oh come on, you honestly expect me to think that you don’t sleep in Hunk’s bed sometimes? We all do it. I mean, except for Coran and the Princess, that is.” She squeezed his hand and dropped it. After a moment he smiled back at her, resigned.

“Well, you figured me out. I just… when I have…. I don’t….”

“You don’t want to be alone? I know.”

His small smile quirked a little, but he said nothing in return.

Pidge shivered a little; the castle was always kept a little cooler during the sleeping hours. Shiro stretched out his hand and enveloped her in the blanket, pulling her closer to his side with his arm. Pidge shrank a little, not wanting to bump his wound, but his touch was just firm enough that she relented and wrapped an arm around his waist, having to reach up slightly to do so. Between his arm and his warm side, she felt immediately safer, even though she hadn’t felt like she was in danger a moment ago.

Shiro stood still for a moment, as if not sure whether to go back to his own room or proceed to Hunk’s, so Pidge sighed very quietly through her nose and pressed her arm against the small of his back, urging him forward. He didn’t hesitate on the second step, and they went together down the hall the short distance to their teammate’s bunk. Shiro was still limping slightly from the wound, and Pidge slyly guided his hand to use her shoulder as support. It was the least she could do for him.

The door slid open for them and they stepped into the darkness of the room. Pidge paused in the doorway while Shiro went the few extra feet. With a snort, Hunk rolled over and lifted his head.

“Hey,” he yawned, “Bad dream?”

Shiro didn’t say anything, but Hunk scooted closer to the wall and patted the mattress, letting the older man climb in next to him. In moments Hunk was settled on his side, Shiro on his back right next to him.

Hunk peered at the door, finally realizing that it hadn’t shut yet. “Oh, hey, Pidge,” he mumbled. Reaching over Shiro, he patted the bed again.

She didn’t need any more invitation, practically diving onto the mattress beside her teammates. They squeezed a little tighter together to make room, but it was still very comfortable. Without asking, Pidge burrowed under the edge of Shiro’s blanket, and Hunk flung an extra one on top of them both. Then, with a heavy sigh born of a simple desire to go back to sleep, Hunk flopped back down. Shiro squirmed just a little bit, adjusting, and Pidge curled up right next to him with a thick fold of blankets between them as their only polite distance.

It was dark. Pidge’s eyes were still wide open, staring at the place in the darkness where she knew she would be able to see both Shiro and Hunk’s faces if it were light. The castle had a sort of quiet about it, though it wasn’t totally silent: the walls hummed softly sometimes with energy, and there were distant creaks and groans, the sounds of an old house empty but for the breeze and its ghosts. And around Pidge was the deep breathing of her friends. It reminded her of the nights she sometimes spent with Matt. They used to have sleepovers, talking and giggling into the night and only falling asleep when the moon was low in the sky.

But there was a soft pad of feet too in the silence Pidge turned her head, getting a better angle to hear.

The footsteps turned to Hunk’s door and it hissed softly open, casting a tiny, fuzzy square of slightly brighter darkness against the far wall. Pidge was aware of Hunk’s breathing change pace as he woke up again, but Shiro hadn’t fallen asleep yet, so his only hitched once before resuming.

“I’m here for the party.”

Lance’s voice.

“Aw man. You guys took my favorite spot,” he grumbled, walking over to the bed.

Hunk yawned. “Bunk’s long,” he mumbled.

Shiro stirred, almost as if to protest, but then he relaxed and Pidge knew he realized that Lance had sounded very tired. Under the bluster, he was weary with dreams and night terrors too.

The three in the bed scooted up a little, making room, and Lance didn’t hesitate, flopping into the bed and putting his pillow on Shiro and Hunk’s knees, snuggling under his own blanket. He stretched out one arm, draping it over Shiro’s legs and Pidge’s feet. In seconds, they all adjusted, and the peaceful “silence” resumed, now with the addition of Lance’s soft breaths.

Pidge wondered about Keith. Would he join them? She knew that he’d spent at least one night in here before, but would he need it tonight too? She kind of hoped that he would.

Drowsy with the warmth of her companions and lulled by their breathing, Pidge drifted away. Before she quite managed to fall asleep, her elbow started to feel cramped so she wiggled and then straightened it out, draping it over Shiro’s chest. She instantly felt even cozier, now that she could feel him breathing. Hunk snored once and then stopped.

 

The door hissed open, making Pidge jerk awake.

“Ow,” slurred Shiro.

“Sorry.”

“Sorry.”

Pidge was dully aware that Hunk had twitched too, jarring Shiro’s arm against his side, and both he and Pidge had apologized. Lance lifted his head, though Pidge wasn’t entirely sure how she knew he’d moved.

“What’re you doing here?” he yawned.

Pidge rolled over and looked at the darkness of the doorway, where stood an even darker silhouette. It moved, and she could tell that there was a blanket and pillow in the shape, and unruly hair down to its shoulders.

“Keith,” Hunk said drowsily, “c’mon.” He tried to pat the mattress in invitation, but there wasn’t any left within arm’s reach, and he patted Pidge’s hip instead. “Sorry.”

“I’ll just go back to my room; there’s no space,” Keith muttered, half-turning in the doorway.

“Look, we can make space,” Lance waved a hand, slapping Pidge’s feet. He rolled slightly, his back against the wall.

Pidge turned over again and curled up her legs a little more; now her nose was practically in Shiro’s ear but he didn’t seem to mind, adjusting his own body to attempt to make more space for Keith. “There’s room,” Pidge said.

Shiro yawned enormously, the most satisfyingly contented sound Pidge had ever heard him make. “You don’t have to be by yourself, Keith,” he mumbled.

After another moment of hesitation, Keith walked over and got into the bed. He moved delicately, as if afraid to put his hands on someone’s leg or arm. Pidge felt a silly urge to laugh at the difference between him and Lance and herself, who had both flopped in without heed. Keith settled down like a bird, putting his pillow next to Lance’s, on Shiro’s knees and below Pidge’s feet. He even rolled over cautiously, wrapping himself in his blanket like a human burrito.

Pidge was actually a bit amazed that the bunk was fitting all of them. It was a little larger than a regular twin bed, and a good bit longer, but it still didn’t seem very feasible to fit five people in it, and three of them side by side. But it was so, so cozy. After a few minutes, Hunk and Lance were already asleep again, and Keith was drowsy, relaxing and getting more comfortable. Pidge was listening to the breathing again, curling happily into the sound.

She was almost asleep again when she became faintly aware that Shiro was moving, barely an inch at a time. He seemed to be trying to extract his knees out from under Lance’s head without disturbing him. Oh, he was trying to roll onto his side, but conscientious as he was, he was trying to make sure no one else was bothered. Or maybe he was so sleepy that he couldn’t move fast.

After several long moments, during which Pidge dipped in and out of sleep a few times, he finally managed the feat, and was now on his left side. They were literally nose to nose so Pidge moved down a bit; with a little more room she loosened from her tight ball, but tried not to put her feet on Keith’s face. Shiro stretched out an arm and draped it over her shoulder. She stirred at the touch and he sluggishly removed his arm.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, so foggy with sleep that he sounded drunk.

Pidge yawned in his face.

“Whup,” she slurred. “Did’n’ mean tha’…. S’fine….”

“Hmm….” He seemed to have run out of the mental energy required to respond in words, so he just put his arm across her again. In a few moments he was out like a light.

Pidge snuggled drowsily into the blankets, warm and content. A hazy though crossed her mind that she hadn’t felt so safe and comfortable in a long time. She hadn’t felt this…at home, since she had last seen her father and brother. The thought made her simultaneously sad and happy.

She struggled through the haze of sleep for a moment to consciously listen to each of her teammate’s breathing, trying to capture this moment like a picture in her mind. Hunk’s deep almost snores, vibrating the whole bed just slightly; Lance’s soft, whispery puffs; Keith’s relaxed but still light and even breathing; Shiro’s toothpaste breath, deep and steady, tickling through Pidge’s bangs and rolling down over her face.

She half-smiled in the darkness and let her body sink into sleep at last. She would remember this night, curled up with her team—her family—for a long, long time.


	2. Like a House of Cards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -Hard to put together, yet easy to fall-
> 
> Shiro didn't have a good day, but the team can make his evening better with scary stories and a pillow fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I warned you guys that Shiro angst was coming. I just hope that it's well written enough. '~o~
> 
> Also, more fluff!!! A lot!! More snuggles!!

The next day Shiro wasn’t sure if he was eager or afraid to go to sleep that night. Last night he had let Pidge assume that he had been going to Hunk’s room to sleep off his nightmares with a friend, when he’d really been aiming for the training deck. Typically he was able to wake relatively quietly from his nightmares and then he’d go and punish away his thoughts with a punching bag or a training dummy. The nightmares had been worse than usual last night, however, and he’d apparently been whimpering enough to wake Pidge up. And while he hadn’t really minded her taking him to spend the night curled up in his neighbor’s bunk, he had itched to go and feel his hands hitting something solid, something that he could fight. Because in all his dreams he was helpless.

But he was slightly anxious about tonight, because he knew his dreams would be just as bad or worse than last night. His reasoning was that he was in a lot of pain, and if that didn’t mean sleeplessness then it meant terrifying nightmares that were half memory, half-imagination. And those were the nights where he couldn’t make it to the training deck and he’d have to lie in bed, smothered in fear as he tried to breathe through panic attacks. He never wanted his team to see him like that, though they’d once caught him in the aftermath, the night that the infected castle systems had filled his head with awful words and ideas that he’d already been thinking enough on his own.

Today had been spent checking through castle systems again, looking for bugs and glitches, which Shiro had been privately grateful to do since he wouldn’t have to stand up for any of it and he could quietly use his left hand when no one else was looking. Waking up first thing in the morning, he’d realized that it was going to be one of those days where his cybernetics were fighting with his body. Galra tech didn’t blend perfectly to human biology. The ache could flare up into spikes of pretty intense pain, so he used his left arm as much as possible. Additionally there was phantom limb pain, which was worse because there was no relieving it.

Shiro, Keith, and Lance, being the less tech-savvy of the team, had been put to work just running various systems in the castle, while Coran, Allura, and Pidge observed to see what the systems were doing wrong. If they found a problem they’d take over and hunt down the bug to fix it. Hunk, meanwhile was down in the kitchen, scrubbing it sparkling clean and inventorying food supplies; he’d volunteered to do that, and everyone knew that he was also spending time planning recipes to make in substitute to the concoctions Coran whipped up. While Hunk was just as capable as Pidge at tinkering, he was content to leave it to her today.

After a long, and rather boring day, they were finally wrapping up the last diagnostics.

Stretching stiff legs, Shiro and the rest of the team stood up from their consoles.

“Man!” Lance exclaimed, cracking his knuckles, “what a long day!”

“Ugh, tell me about it.” Keith stretched his arms above his head.

“You all did great work,” Princess Allura said, brushing off her knees as she got up from the floor. “It was so helpful for you to run the systems for us.”

She, Coran, and Pidge had also spent a time doing manual work, removing a few panels here and there around the central control room and tinkering with the guts of the castle; that had been Pidge’s favorite part. Things that required them to go elsewhere in the castle-ship, or take a lot more time and effort, had been put on a list for later.

“Let’s all go get some dinner.” Coran tapped a few displays on the main hub and the control room began powering down.

“And some sleep!” Lance yawned. “I’m beat.”

“You didn’t even do anything,” Keith responded with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes I did! I pressed buttons all day long!”

“Sure, because that takes so much energy.”

Shiro stifled a smile at their banter and then headed towards the door. Immediately his side reminded him that it was still in pain, and he bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from making any noise about it.

“Shiro? Are you all right?”

He turned his head quickly and offered Allura a brief, polite smile. “I’m fine,” he replied.

“Okay.” She didn’t look convinced. “Just let us know if anything happens with your wound.”

Nodding, he gave an affirmative “of course” before he resumed his exit. He was biting his cheek hard enough to nearly draw blood; the effort of walking without a heavier than usual limp was immense, and he had to allow his arm to swing as a part of his normal gait.

Though he was starving, Shiro didn’t have much of an appetite when he arrived at the dining room table. Everyone around him was engaged with happy chatter, and he struggled to pull himself out of his distracted fog enough to talk to them all without seeming suspicious. As was usual these days, he deflected questions about his well-being from every team member at least once. Pidge asked him three different times over the course of dinner about whether he was okay or not. Maybe she sensed that all was not well under his carefully constructed façade.

The food was good, though Shiro barely noticed, so he ate it with all the enthusiasm he could scrape together. He also remembered to compliment Hunk, an action that also produced a slightly insulted sniff from Coran, who muttered under his breath about proper meals. Shiro chuckled at the right moments in conversation, sighed at Lance’s monkey business, and looked interested when Allura related a brief anecdote about the castle’s history. He was managing to pull off his act but by the time everyone was carting the dishes away to the kitchen he was exhausted and could hardly think straight. His chest was starting to tighten with the pure effort of not giving vent to the pain that was shooting up his arm.

He really, really didn’t want to concern his friends.

As soon as the last dish was gone and Allura and Coran said goodnight, Shiro took off for his own room. He tried not to look too much like he was hurrying, and it wasn’t that hard, considering that his body was hot with pain on one side. Fortunately the rest of the team seemed thoroughly engaged in some sort of debate about marshmallows, of all things. Shiro slipped into his room and palmed the panel beside he door, locking it behind him.

Immediately he crumpled slowly to the floor, gasping and shaking. His arm was burning with pain, and the wound in his side wasn’t a whole lot better, having flared up due to the stress he’d unintentionally exerted while trying to make sure he looked as normal as possible. He curled up on the floor, panting hard.

_Breathe, just breathe. Slow down._

It took a while for him to calm down, and once he could just lie still and breathe normally his arm and side stopped hurting quite so much. After another minute he got up and started getting ready for bed. Might as well get as early of a start on sleep as he could; it was silly logic to think that the earlier he fell asleep the longer he would have before the nightmares came, but somehow he still felt like it made sense.

He brushed his teeth, using the small sink in the room, and then washed his face. He leaned against the wall, his forehead feeling oddly cool against the warmth of the wall. Huh… there must be some sort of electric line or something right underneath the surface at that spot. Resting most of his weight against his left arm on the sink edge, Shiro took a few deep breaths, letting his body respond to the calm thoughts he was trying to think up.

_Rain on leaves, pebbled beaches, wind on the mountain, crackling radio music…._

His arm was definitely hurting less, and the ache in his side was almost completely gone, now that he could slump however he wanted to relieve it. Hopefully he wouldn’t need any of the pain meds he’d taken from his Lion’s small infirmary—he preferred to save those for the worst pain if he could. Pushing himself away from the sink and the wall he continued his nighttime routine. He remembered to unlock the door, just in case the other paladins needed to come and talk to him about something.

He’d just changed into his pajamas when he heard a ruckus in the next room. His door hissed softly open and Lance darted into the doorway, toothbrush still in his mouth. Foam dripped onto the floor and Shiro eyed it with a slight feeling of irritation.

“Shiro c’mere!” Lance squealed, and shot away again.

“Brush your teeth in the bathroom!” Shiro called back, but he followed anyway.

Light was spilling out into the hallway from Hunk’s room, and there was music playing quietly. Popping his head around the doorframe, Shiro saw that somehow Hunk had acquired a second mattress, which was now on the floor along with the first one, covered with the blankets and pillows of all the other paladins.

“What in the world are you guys up to?” he asked, stepping in and leaning with false casualness against the doorjamb.

Lance, still with toothpaste foaming down his chin, grinned at him. “Finf we habba goob fime waft nigh’—”

“Go spit out that toothpaste right now,” Shiro commanded.

The blue paladin scrambled out of the room, yelling, “Lemme’ fell if yoo’ guyf!”

Shiro shook his head with weary amusement and raised an eyebrow at Hunk, Pidge, and Keith. Hunk shook his head and Pidge made a ‘my lips are zipped’ motion.

“He really wants to be the one to tell you,” Keith said.

“I’ll wait.”

A few seconds later Lance darted back down the hallway. “Nobody told him, right?”

Pidge just solemnly repeated the zipped-lips motion.

“Okay good. Well, since we had such a good time last night—”

“I wouldn’t call hanging half-off the bed with Pidge’s feet in my hair ‘a good time’,” Keith snarked.

“Oh come on!” Pidge huffed, “I didn’t so much as touch you!”

"Shut it Keith, you joined in willingly!” Lance grumbled. “Anyway, we—”

“You.”

“—thought it would be a great idea to have a sleepover tonight too! But with more space!”

Pidge took the opportunity. “We’re already _in_ space, Lance,” she said with a grin.

Lance squinted at her for a moment, not sure whether to appreciate the pun this time or not, but then he smirked and pointed finger guns at her. He turned back to Shiro a second later. “Well? Come on Shiro! Join the party!”

Shiro twitched in surprise, blinking stupidly at the crew for a few seconds. For some reason he hadn’t realized that they were inviting him. “Oh, um, I don’t….”

“Oh come on tough guy,” Hunk teased, “you can be part of the fun.”

“It won’t be the same without you,” Pidge pleaded, eyes round behind her glasses.

“Yeah, please, Shiro? Just this once?” Lance flopped over on the floor, clasping his hands and worming towards Shiro’s feet in a posture of meek, desperate supplication.

“Well, I….” Truth be told, he really didn’t want to wake up screaming in the middle of the night, surrounded by his concerned teammates. And he didn’t particularly want to be in the midst of whatever squish pile this would turn out to be, not with his arm hurting the way it was.

Keith sighed. “You know they’ll just pester you until you stay,” he said. Then, after a moment, he frowned at his feet. “Anyway, Pidge is right. It won’t be the same without all of us here.”

“It’ll be fun, I swear!” begged Lance, groveling. “I won’t make too many jokes, a-and I’ll stop Hunk from snoring—”

“Hey!”

“—and we have snacks and stuff!”

Shiro gnawed on the inside of his lip, looking at them all. They stared back at him sincerely, even Keith, hopeful pleading in all of their faces. He couldn’t bear to disappoint them all. He sighed heavily and his shoulders slumped. “Okay, okay. I’ll stay.”

Lance jumped up with what could only be described as a screech of joyful triumph, limbs going more directions than seemed entirely necessary for the human body to achieve all at once. Alarmed by the abruptness of the motion, Shiro actually took a step back and clutched his chest with his left hand, and, similarly startled, the rest of the team flinched like Lance’s victory cry had been a physical assault.

“Holy _quiznak_ , Lance, you need to calm down,” Pidge squeaked.

“Sorry, I’llberightback!” He shot off down the hall again, obviously on a mission to retrieve something else for the sleepover.

Shiro had actually been very taken aback by the vocal attack, and he was mentally trying to categorize the sound Lance had made as ‘nonthreatening Lance nonsense’ as he walked into the room. He wasn’t terribly good with loud, abrupt noises nowadays, as they were liable to dredge up some sort of awful memory.

“Did that goshawful sound startle you?” Hunk asked as Shiro sat down on the mattress.

“You almost jumped out of your skin,” Pidge said, jogging his elbow, “But trust me, we all did just now.”

Shiro smiled gently. Inwardly he was gritting his teeth at the flare of pain that Pidge’s playful gesture had caused. He subtly pulled his arm into his lap, drawing his legs up to sit criss-cross. “Yeah, it was really sudden. I don’t think anyone was expecting him to make so much noise.” He gave a light chuckle.

Pidge and Hunk laughed.

Keith got up from the corner and plopped down on the edge of one of the mattresses. “He can’t make normal noises. It’s impossible.”

“It’s entirely possible,” Lance argued, trotting back into the room with Shiro’s blankets and pillow. “I make normal noises all the time. See? I’m making normal human noises right now.”

“Oh yeah?” Hunk grabbed a pillow and leapt up, smashing it into Lance’s face. His friend squawked and fell over backwards. “Sounded like a chicken who swallowed a whoopee cushion getting sat on just then,” he chuckled.

Shiro had to chuckle too at the analogy, especially as it had been pretty accurate, but he just made a stifled snort high up in his nose, while Keith and Pidge howled gleefully at their teammate.

Lance rolled over and snatched up a pillow. “Oh yeah, Hunk? Well why don’t you…uh… Pillow attack!" He charged at his big friend, swinging his weapon.

The blue paladin’s assault hardly fazed the yellow paladin, who defended himself by using his own pillow as a shield as he retreated very slowly. Then one of the smaller teen’s swipes went wide, smacking Keith in the back of the head.

“Ow, watch it!” he snapped.

Pausing, Lance withstood a retaliatory strike from Hunk, narrowing his eyes at Keith. Then, with a very deliberate stare, he hit the red paladin again, right in the face.

Keith reeled but recovered rapidly, and grabbed his own pillow. “Pidge, you’re on my team,” he commanded.

Pidge obligingly took up her own weapon and leaped at Hunk.

As the red and green paladins went on the offensive against the yellow and blue, Shiro sat back and laughed, ducking wild swings from time to time and twisting his head around to watch the battle. A pillow caught him full in the face and he retreated to the empty bunk before he could get hit somewhere more sensitive, like his arm or side. Lance noticed his escape and leapt across the mattresses to smack Shiro in the butt with his pillow.

“Surprise attack from the rear!” he crowed. Then his leader turned around and the gleam in his dark eyes warned Lance to retreat, which he did with a playful shriek.

Shiro picked up a spare pillow that flew from someone’s hand and took off the pillowcase, twisted it up, and held it at the ready. The next time Lance circled near the bunk, retreating from an assault by Pidge, Shiro struck. The twisted pillowcase snapped, popping sharply against Lance’s butt. The teen screeched like a steam whistle and jumped clear across the room, dropping his pillow as he went. Everyone paused for a second to see what had happened.

“Nice,” Pidge complimented, grinning at Shiro.

He raised an eyebrow and twisted the pillowcase again, holding it at the ready with his left hand.

Pidge retreated.

“Watch out, Shiro’s armed and highly dangerous!” she warned as she fled.

For a minute the pillow war was contained on the other half of the room, as far from Shiro as possible, but they soon forgot and moved to take back the rest of the room. Shiro popped the pillowcase just behind Hunk, who yelped as if he’d actually been hit and hurried out of range.

The pillowfight continued in that way for a while, the action moving constantly, everyone on edge if they circled too close to Shiro, who sat poised in the bunk, his weapon at ready. Every once in a while he would pop it right next to someone, but after the first snap on Lance’s rear he didn’t actually hit anyone, though he could if he chose. He just liked to make them jump away in alarm right into an enemy pillow warrior’s attack. The favor alternately swung in favor of either side, Hunk and Lance, or Keith and Pidge, with Shiro providing random mercenary strikes from time to time. Pidge was small and fast, and Hunk made a big target but he hit hard. Keith and Lance were matched in speed, but Keith had better tactics, or as much tactics as one could have in a pillowfight. There was a lot of laughing, muffled grunts, and the constant _whump_ , _whop_ , of pillows smacking into bodies.

It ended abruptly, however. In the midst of the fray, someone, it was hard to tell who, swung too hard but missed and the strike instead hit Shiro’s right arm with considerable force. Immediately he paled and dropped his twisted pillowcase to cradle his arm against his stomach, swallowing a cry of shock and pain so that he wouldn’t alarm everyone.

Lance noticed almost instantly. “Whoa, whoa! Guys stop!” He dropped his pillow and grabbed Hunk’s and Keith’s to stop them. “Somebody hit Shiro. Shiro, are you okay?”

Everyone snapped to attention, turning to look at him with concern. He straightened a little, wincing. “I’m okay,” he said, but he was breathless and white as a sheet.

“What happened?” Hunk asked, crawling carefully onto the bunk next to him. “Did we hit your side too hard?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s fine though.” Everyone’s playful attitude had been doused and Shiro hated his stupid arm for ruining their good mood.

All four of his friends were apologizing as they shuffled their feet and looked awkwardly at him; he felt awkward too with them all staring at him.

“It’s okay, I swear,” he promised them, regaining his breath and showing them a gentle smile, “let’s just get to bed. It’s been a long day.”

They jumped to it, brushing off the mattresses and untangling the trampled sheets, fluffing the pillows and straightening pillowcases. Lance tidied up the snacks and Pidge turned off her iPod’s music. Shiro got out of the bunk, and though he stood fine on his own he was aware that Hunk was still near him, holding a hand close behind his leader’s back in case he started to lose his balance.

“Shiro where do you want to sleep?” Pidge asked, spreading out a blanket.

“Anywhere is fine with me,” he said with a shrug.

“Well I want this side,” Lance announced, flopping down at the edge of one of the mattresses.

Shiro smiled and picked his way to somewhere in the middle. While he wasn’t keen on being in the center of all the elbows and in danger of being jostled, he also had really liked being in the middle of last night’s impromptu sleepover. Besides, he felt safe there, and being on the outskirts might put him on edge. Pidge tossed him his pillow and he settled down on his back.

Once he was down, everyone else picked their own spots quickly, and Shiro ended up between Hunk and Pidge again. Keith was on the other side of Hunk, at the edge of the mattress. Shuffling blankets and pillows into the best positions, they all got comfortable, but no one turned off the lights quite yet, which Shiro was glad of, as he was nowhere near sleepy yet. He was definitely tired, but sleepy? Not a bit.

After a minute of silence, Lance sat up. “Let’s tell scary stories.”

“Lance, no.” Hunk propped himself up on one elbow and Keith lifted himself enough to see over his friend.

“Lance, yes,” Lance responded, leaning over Shiro and Pidge to try and poke Hunk’s knee. “I’m gonna’ tell a really freaky one about _el chupacabra_.”

Pidge lifted her head. “Lance, did you have any idea that there’s a spot of toothpaste at the corner of your mouth? It’s driving me nuts.”

“Huh? Which side?” Lance stuck his tongue out and licked the wrong side.

“I got it.” Without thinking, Shiro licked his thumb and wiped off the toothpaste.

For a horrible moment nobody said anything, and Shiro wasn’t sure if they were staring at him or Lance. Then the blue paladin blinked.

“Okay, Dad, geez I had it,” he joked.

Mortified by his split-second action, Shiro pulled his blanket up to just under his eyes under the pretense of politely stifling a sneeze.

“Oh my gosh you guys he just turned so red.” Hunk leaned a little closer, smiling teasingly.

“Really?” Pidge sat up and looked.

Shiro pulled the blanket up to his eyebrows.

“Was he really blushing that much?” Keith demanded.

“Totally,” Lance said, his words a smirk. “He’s probably as red as your lion right now.”

“Shiro I had no idea that you get all blushy when you’re embarrassed.” Pidge was laughing a little. “Keith did you have any idea that he does this? You knew him before right?”

“Yeah. But I’ve never seen that happen, ever."

"Stop it,” Shiro demanded, sounding about as awkward as he really felt.

It fell flat amongst a chorus of teasing coos.

He was now most definitely redder than a tomato, but he couldn’t stop himself so he just yanked the blanket up over the top of his head. Hovering above him, he could hear his fellow paladins giggling and exclaiming over the revelation that their leader turned into a beet when he was embarrassed.

“Oh wow, I can’t believe he just pulled a Dad move and then went totally red,” Lance laughed. “Pidge, put that one up on the list,” he added in a fake whisper.

“You guys have a list?” asked Keith, “of what?”

“Anytime Shiro does a Dad-like thing,” Pidge said.

“But where does the blush thing go?” Hunk popped in.

“That can go on the ‘Shiro’s reaction when…’ list.”

Overhearing all this going on, Shiro was horrified. Did they really have lists? Was he that much of a joke? To a certain extent he could handle jokes at his expense, but a list was going a little far. He pulled the blanket back down so that he could see them, knowing that his forehead probably wasn’t red anymore.

“Knock it off, guys,” he ordered. They noticed his tone and their chatter stopped. They still tried to hide their smiles, with very little success. “Pidge…do you really have a list?”

Seeming to sense his anxiety over this, Pidge shook her head. “Actually I don’t. I mean, Lance and Hunk and I all joke about the ‘Dad’ stuff sometimes.”

“Yeah, we were just teasing,” Lance added.

“We had no idea that you’d react like that though,” Hunk said with a smile.

“I have never seen a human being get so red so fast.” Keith was resting his elbows on Hunk’s side, grinning, and Shiro forgot that the red paladin had not actually seen him when he started blushing, so naturally his mind darted back to that split-second moment.

And… _oh no_ … his brain was going over it in detail, as though to deliberately torture him. He’d licked his thumb, wiped at the spot of dry toothpaste at the corner of Lance’s mouth, then _wiped his thumb on the blanket_. Shiro knew he was going bright red again, and he put his hands over his face to little avail.

Pidge snorted.

“Oh my gosh his ears are red!” Lance started laughing again.

Oh no. Shiro had forgotten that his cursed ears blushed too. It had been so long since he’d had a moment of being shy and embarrassed that he forgot how horrendously he blushed.

Pidge was trying to get everyone to stop giggling and snorting, but she was having little success, seeing as she was doing a deal of it herself.

Shiro fumbled for the blanket—the blanket that had _toothpaste_ on it—and pulled it over his head again. He was absolutely mortified that they had discovered his dreadful secret. It wasn’t exactly the toothpaste incident itself that was so hideously embarrassing, but the fact that he done it with so little thought and then he’d turned redder than a beet; he’d always been a bit self-conscious of his tendency to blush so badly.

“Hey, Lance,” Keith’s voice spoke over the incessant giggles, “what’s the chubacabra?”

Bless you Keith, Shiro thought.

Lance abruptly stopped laughing. “What? You seriously don’t know about _el chupacabra_?”

“No?”

“Oh boy, settle in, I’m going to tell you guys the creepiest story!”

And unlike last time, Hunk let him.

As Shiro lay with his face under the blankets, they all listened to Lance tell his spooky monster story—in the dark. Lance had absolutely insisted that it should be in the dark. He fished up a flashlight from somewhere and shone it under his face, casting his face in eerie shadows. Shiro discovered this when he finally peeked out about halfway through the story.

Lance was a surprisingly good storyteller, and had Hunk shivering and burrowing into the blankets, and Pidge and Keith listening with wide eyes. His husky voice rose and fell in unnerving tones, stopping for effect at times and lilting into different character voices. It wasn’t just presentation, but he wove his tale very well too, and at the end, when he abruptly turned off the flashlight and gave a low howl, Hunk screamed. Pidge visibly jumped and one hand clutched at Shiro’s left arm.

“Pfft, that’s not so scary,” she said. But she found the flashlight and turned it on.

“Turn the lights back on,” Hunk whimpered.

“Man.” Keith sounded thoughtful. “I used to hear some weird howling when I was in the desert. I always thought it was a sick coyote or something.”

“Can we _please_ turn the lights back on!?”

“ _Awoo_ ,” Lance whisper-howled, and grabbed Hunk’s foot.

The yellow paladin screamed again and kicked Lance’s hand instinctively.

“Ow!”

“Lance don’t _do_ that!” Hunk whimpered. “Someone turn on the lights!”

“Lance, leave him alone and turn the lights on,” Shiro sighed.

“Okay Dad.”

“Stop it.”

They all spent a while afterwards talking and telling stories—no more scary ones, after the tale of _el chupacabra_. Pidge amused them by completely disappearing inside her green pajama shirt. The last green paladin must have been of much larger stature than she, because she could tuck the hem under her feet and butt and have her head inside as well. Seeing her having so much fun being a turtle, Lance decided to rediscover the magic of tucking his arms in his shirt. He couldn’t quite go full turtle, though he made a valiant effort. As he did so, everyone discussed pajamas, noted each other’s varied ensembles—Shiro wore the pajama pants but his own white muscle shirt, while Pidge wore the shirt and a pair of cotton shorts, and Hunk and Lance wore the whole set— and argued over which types of pajamas were the best in general.

By now everyone was beginning to yawn and blink sleepily. Shiro’s exhausting day of fighting off pain had caught up with him and he could barely keep his eyes open. It must have been over two hours since the impromptu sleepover had begun, and while it hadn’t been late to begin with, the crew was still recovering from their exhausting period of separation from a short while ago.

“Okay, guys, lights out,” Shiro said.

“Aw but I’m not—” Lance’s protest was cut short by an enormous yawn.

“Lights out.”

“Okay.”

Keith got up and flicked the panel near the door and the room dimmed into deep twilight. The light strips at the base of the walls were still on, but they would go out in another minute, giving everyone time to get back in bed before they were plunged into total darkness. Shiro was glad that it was completely dark at night; when he was a prisoner the lights were never off. He could remember lying on the floor of his cell, sick with the smell of his own blood and vomit, eyes half-open to the purplish light, listening to the toneless, faint buzz of electricity from the walls. A guard clanked past outside, joints whirring faintly. Another prisoner was screaming, somewhere far away down the hall.

“Are you cold?” The voice snapped him out of his memory.

Pidge was leaning close, her mouth near his ear, and he turned his head just a little to see that she was frowning. Shiro realized that he had been shaking, lost in the awful memory that had surfaced out of nowhere.

“Y-yeah,” he mumbled in response.

Smiling, Pidge grabbed another blanket from somewhere in the mess and helped Shiro drape it over himself.

“Thanks Pidge,” he said.

“No problem.”

Everyone was settling down as the lights finally shut off, leaving them in the dark. Lance gave a few very sleepy sighs and flopped around before he finally lay still; Hunk heaved a few deep breaths of his own before he snuggled contentedly on his side, facing Shiro. Pidge was balled up next to Shiro again, and he could only assume that Keith was being a burrito on the other side of Hunk’s broad form. Their breathing all slowed and deepened.

Barely awake, Shiro smiled softly to himself as he suddenly realized that for most of the evening, excepting when he was hit by the pillow and a few isolated incidents of spiking pain, he hadn’t focused on his arm hurting, and in fact it hadn’t been that bad. He’d even managed to pull his mind away from its dark thoughts and hadn’t had a bad one since he’d curled up in a panic attack in his room. These realizations made him even more grateful for his friends.

With a contented sigh, he drowsily rolled onto his left side. In seconds Shiro was being Hunk’s little spoon, and the big spoon to Pidge’s pea—she was still curled up into a ball and seemed happy to stay that way in the curve of Shiro’s chest and stomach. Lance flopped over, snoring a little, and kicked his leg up and over the lower half of the Pidge ball. Before Shiro went out completely, he felt that a hand had escaped the Keith-burrito and found its way over Hunk’s side, just enough to lightly touch Shiro’s hip.

Shiro honestly couldn’t imagine a better way to sleep.

~~

His dreams were not pleasant. Haggar hovered over him, cackling. He tried to run, to escape but she clawed his side and tore at his arm. Sendak was there, laughing deep and menacingly as he repeated ‘monster’ over and over and listed all the ways that Shiro would fail. His own cybernetic arm gripped Shiro’s and crushed it, sending jolts up through the sensors into his damaged nerves. Zarkon’s gravelly voice whispered horrible things to him. Their voices all blended into a dreadful cacophony of the arena and Shiro was drenched in blood, not sure if it was his own or his opponents’. There were so many bodies. He ran, stumbling, tripping, falling, sobbing in pain and fear. Then the witch was in front of him again and she tore his cybernetic arm away. Blood gushed from the stump of his right arm, as though it had never healed. Sendak’s claws, twitching with purple lightning, touched the stump, heedless of Shiro’s cries for mercy, heedless of his sobbing, desperate begging. Molten pain ricocheted up his arm, seeping into his bones, turning them hot, liquid. A hand, Zarkon’s, Haggar’s, Sendak’s, he couldn’t tell, gripped his chest and squeezed, forcing his air out in frantic shrieks of agony.

Shiro woke with a scream, his body twisting violently as he hunched over his cybernetic arm. What was left of his human limb was burning with pain, and he writhed in response, mindlessly trying to ease the pain however he could.

He was too hot, too hot…burning up…his body was on fire and he kicked off the blankets, gasping for air. It was too hot…he couldn’t breathe, he was choking.

“Shiro! Shiro wake up!”

He was aware that there were small hands and big ones, trying to touch him and soothe him, but they were like fire and claws and he screamed again as he twisted away from them, agony jolting up his arm and into his shoulder. His cry took what air was left in his lungs and he was back to gulping vainly for breath, pulling in almost nothing as his chest heaved too fast, too fast.

He was soaked in sweat, his clothes clinging stickily to his skin. His hair was plastered flat to his forehead, and he knew his cheeks were wet with tears. Oh god, oh god, oh god, he still couldn’t breathe and the pain was unbearable.

Suddenly there was a voice in his ear again. “Shiro, it’s okay. You’re not with the Galra. You’re in the Altean castle with the rest of the Paladins of Voltron. It was just a dream. Breathe, Shiro, breathe.”

The words worked their way into his head, down into his throat, his chest and he struggled to draw in a long gasp of air. It rattled back out again almost immediately but the voice—Hunk’s voice, and then Pidge’s too—told him to take another one, easy, it’s okay.

He took another breath, managed to hold it longer.

A hand snaked into his left hand and he clung to it, desperate.

Then there were fingers in his hair. He wasn’t sure whose, but they stroked through gently, steadily and he focused on that rhythm, and the voices, using them to measure his breath. Hunk kept murmuring to him, quietly, that he was in the castle, he wasn’t with the Galra, they were never going to hurt him _ever again_.

He wasn’t sure how long it took for him to be able to breathe normally again. His arm still hurt enough to make him gasp and moan. He was still crying, slowly, hardly aware that he was.

He realized that the fingers in his hair were Lance’s. The hand in his was Keith’s. Pidge’s thumb had started stroking his cheek. Hunk’s cool breath was still talking to him. Their gentle touches and voices grounded him, pulled him away from the darkness and gave him something to hold onto until the storm passed by.

His arm gave a spasm and he sobbed.

Lance started singing a lullaby in Spanish. The rhythm matched his fingers in Shiro’s hair, and grounded him further. It was so different than anything he heard while imprisoned. He was able to latch onto the sound to distance himself from the faintly echoing laughter in his head, the roar of the bloodthirsty crowd.

He was cooling down now. Even though they were still hovering near him they gave him enough space to breath.

Shiro hiccupped awkwardly. “I’m sorry,” he whimpered. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Shh, it’s okay.” Pidge kept stroking with her thumb.

“It wasn’t your fault.” The back of Hunk’s hand touched his cheekbone.

“You’re safe. It’s all right.” Keith gently squeezed his hand.

A soft curl of Spanish broke up the melody of Lance’s lullaby, and Shiro knew by the tone alone that it was comfort and affirmation.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he mumbled away. He wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for. For everything, for nothing.

The shooting pain in his arm finally slowed and he wrapped it around his stomach.

Hunk lifted him gently and cradled Shiro in his lap, his head on the sturdy shoulder.

Hunk was rocking slowly, enough for hands to keep rubbing his back in gentle motions, smoothing away the awkward hiccups. Shiro nuzzled his tears dry on Hunk’s shirt, and the yellow paladin only murmured more soft words.

“Did I hurt anyone?” he whispered, after what seemed a long time.

“No, Shiro, we’re all fine,” Hunk soothed, slowing his steady movement.

“I’m sorry…I-I didn’t want to stay…. I knew I might…h-have nightmares.” His arm throbbed again and he swallowed down a groan but his fingers tightened on Hunk’s shirt.

Lance’s song stopped. “Hey, man, are you okay? Like, your arm, I mean.”

“No.” As if it knew it was being discussed, it flared with pain again, and this time Shiro gave vent to a shuddering moan. “I-it…oh…god.” He pushed his forehead hard against Hunk’s shoulder for a moment, then backed off again quickly, realizing that he might be causing his teammate discomfort. “I’m sorry.”

"You don’t have to apologize,” Keith said, sounding disgruntled at the very idea.

“It’s not just the arm is it?” Hunk asked, “It’s, like, phantom limb pain too, right?”

“Yeah…. I don’t want to anyone to worry…. I don’t….” He didn’t want to say. He’d already caused enough concern, and been too much trouble and God help him he didn’t want them to see him crumble any further. He needed them to see him as being strong, firm, there to lead and protect. Not this…this snotty mess, screaming and incoherent and so, so terrified of what was going on in his own head.

“Shiro.” This was Pidge now, edging closer in the darkness to slide a gentle hand on his lower thigh. “We’ll always be a little worried. We’re a team. We have to look out for each other.”

But they had so many other things to focus on, he thought, like stopping Zarkon from doing any more damage, protecting others. Not him. Not a confused, f*cked-up, broken soldier. Not a man who was afraid of himself, afraid of his mind and his own arm.

Someone suddenly flicked on the lower lights, and they came slowly to life, glowing faintly blue. Something clicked in Shiro’s head, and he sensed that some awful memory was about to surface and swamp him.

“No!” he gasped, “No, no, please don’t!” His human hand twisted Hunk’s shirt.

There was a curse in Spanish and the lights went back out. “Sorry, sorry!”

“No…it’s okay.” The memory fell back again before it could emerge, and Shiro took a deep breath. This sleepover was going just peachy; he’d messed everything up. He didn’t want them to see him like this. “I’m sorry I woke everyone up,” he said softly. His arm reminded him that yes, it was still there and it was in pain, and he whimpered very faintly.

“It’s no big deal,” Pidge said, a smile in her voice.

“Yeah, I was about to go to the bathroom anyway,” Keith added.

“But…you all need your rest,” Shiro murmured.

“Come on _Dad_ we’re teenagers,” Lance snorted gently, “we stay up late all the time.”

As embarrassing as the ‘Dad’ thing had been earlier, now all Shiro could do was smile, and he did, small and faint.

“Really,” Hunk said, “we don’t mind at all. It’s totally okay, man.” One big finger traced the edge of Shiro’s ear, almost light enough to tickle, stroking through the short, stubbly hair of his undercut. “We’re here for you.”

And all of a sudden, Shiro was indescribably weary. And he didn’t care. He sighed softly and his body finally relaxed into Hunk’s arms; he’d been unaware of just how tense he’d been. Sensing the change in his body language, Hunk started rocking again very, very gently, his arms curling to hold Shiro more firmly. After a moment he paused and then bent his head slightly, planting a feather-light kiss on Shiro’s white forelock.

“Just rest, okay, Shiro?”

“Hmm…mkay.”

“We’re right here,” Keith said softly.

Pidge didn’t say anything, just rubbed Shiro’s leg.

Hunk resumed rocking, and Shiro faintly felt him nod. Lance started up again with his singing, his voice going husky and honey-smooth. The tune was different this time, but as Shiro started slipping away into what promised to be a dreamless slumber, he finally recognized it as “Swing Low Sweet Chariot”. He’d only heard it twice before, and he had no idea that it was in Spanish too, but it was beautiful.

Shiro fell asleep at last, still with the husky croon of a Spanish hymn rolling in his ears, still rocking like he was on a gentle sea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry guys, I'm just a sucker for my faves being in pain and then being snuggled by friends and family. I just hope that Shiro's flashbacks and such were okay. I'm mostly basing what he experiences on things I've read and my own personal experiences with pain and panic attacks.
> 
> Also, I do indeed headcanon Lance being from a Spanish-speaking family, though I'm not decided if it's of European or Latin American descent. I have adopted the headcanon that he comes from a very large mixed family, too, so it stands to reason that he can sing and tell good stories. Little cousins and siblings and all that. He's great at being comforting and he's really observant of people. (fite me, I love Lance so much.)
> 
> And emotionally supportive Hunk is my favorite. I need him to be so important like that, not only with his incredible engineering smarts and his cooking skills.
> 
> (And of course Shiro is a giant snuggle-bug, though he refuses to admit it. He loves to be the little spoon no matter who he's cuddling.)  
> (Also Keith likes to be the big spoon, so I guarantee you that he escaped his own blanket burrio prison and was totally jetpacking Hunk sometime during the night before Shiro had nightmares. Hunk is a giant pile of love and protection and he is The Best at cuddling.)

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this was a good read! I agonized over some details for way too long. 'o^o  
> 


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